


Up Above the World So High

by wastefulreverie



Series: Ectober 2019 [3]
Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Angst, Dual Obsession, Dual Space Obsession, GIW, Gen, Graphic Description, Horror, Torture, space obsession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-06 02:48:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21219314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wastefulreverie/pseuds/wastefulreverie
Summary: His space obsession was fueled by wonder—as long as they played along, he was easily contained. His admiration of the stars provided them with a plethora of data. As for his hero obsession… well, that’s where things got tricky.





	Up Above the World So High

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lexosaurus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lexosaurus/gifts).

> Written for Ectober Week 2019 Day 4: Nursery Rhyme

_"_ _Twinkle, twinkle, little star,_

_How I wonder what you are!_

_Up above the world so high,_

_Like a diamond in the sky…"_

* * *

To the specimen's obvious elation, his cheeks glimmered brilliantly with the mark of constellations. In this state, he was docile. Slower. Almost childlike in nature. He would pester the scientists, eagerly asking what they were going to do to him next. Like he _wanted _to be experimented on. His space obsession was fueled by wonder—as long as they played along, he was easily contained. His admiration of the stars provided them with a plethora of data.

His other obsession… wasn't as passive. In his hero-mode, Phantom was more skittish, defensive, and cocky. _Especially_ cocky. Unlike his space-mode, he struggled against the scientists and threatened to escape (as if he could). His defiance was a liability and made it difficult to conduct experiments. And he was always insisting that Amity Park—the nearest town—needed protecting and that _he_ was the sole force between that town and oblivion. He just _never_ stopped.

The scientists were trying to devise how to eliminate his hero-obsession, but they were at a loss. Phantom was the first ghost they'd observed with dual-obsessions, so this was completely new territory. They figured that they needed to slowly break down his hero-obsession by employing psychological tactics. Simultaneously, they would reward his space-obsession with subtle encouragement and mental stimuli. They couldn't predict the result, but it was worth a shot.

_"__Twinkle, twinkle…" _Agent Foxtrot traced a finger across Phantom's cheeks. "Someone's shining bright today, aren't we?"

Phantom gasped. "I am? That means it's a new moon! The stars always look brightest under a new moon! So mine do too!"

"And so your face… just does whatever the sky does, _space freak_?" Agent Kilo jabbed.

"Yeah-huh! Except my face doesn't have clouds. Or birds. It only has astronomical bodies on it, not Earth sky stuff. That'd look really funny. Like you," he laughed. "You look silly with that mask on."

"It's so we don't breathe in any of the chemicals we're testing on you today," Agent Foxtrot explained. "Safety precaution."

"_Oh…_ okay. What are you doing, then?"

"Testing your reaction to different mixtures. Some have anti-ghost components, others are just regular toxic chemicals."

Phantom tensed against the lab table. "So this is another one of the hurting tests?"

"_Yep_."

Phantom's face flickered. For a moment the stars blinked from his face before reappearing. "I—I don't wanna—"

"Shhh," Agent Foxtrot soothed. "_Twinkle, twinkle, little star, How I wonder what you are…_ Everything's going to be alright. Just breathe."

They couldn't let his hero mode take over for this experiment. His obsessions were in equilibrium, fighting for dominance. His defensive side was trying to protect himself, to combat the pain. However, his space mode was still holding on. The speckled stars across his faces weren't completely diminished.

"The stars," Agent Sierra said. "Remember the stars? The ones you were talking about yesterday?"

Phantom blinked. His freckles stabilized and his hero side remained secured. "Oh yeah! Did you know that some stars have rain sometimes? Not like our rain, it's plasma rain so it's lethal and stuff, but it's still rain!"

They all collectively sighed in relief.

"Inject the first chemical," Agent Foxtrot instructed.

Agent Kilo held Phantom's arm down with one hand and held the syringe with the other. He steadily inserted the needle into the specimen's vein and introduced the chemical. The results were almost immediate.

Phantom's eyes dulled with pain and raw agony slid across his face. The site of the injection quickly became inflamed and visible welts graced his skin. He choked out an anguished sob and pressed his fingers into the metal table. "Ma—make it stop—"

"Which chemical was this?" Agent Sierra asked.

"Blood blossom extract. We hypothesized that he'd be able to withstand it since he's more resilient than most ghosts, but it turns out we were incorrect. This is interesting, though. Most ecto-entities completely break down into ectoplasm when they're introduced to this… but he's only reacting mildly."

"Must be because of his organic composition. We need to look into that more and investigate _why_ he's fused with human matter."

Phantom tried cradling himself, but his bondage prevented him from moving. "Ev—rythin' _burns_."

The scientists ignored him.

"Agent Bravo has a theory that he's a hybrid. She claims that during her session, his midriff kept trying to _morph_ into some kind of white material. That was right after he fried the laboratory camera, so there's no evidence."

Agent Kilo snorted. "That's convenient. She's always making up shit, I wouldn't doubt she's trying to jeopardize _our_ team's experiments."

"I don't know… some of her hypotheses have been correct in the past."

"We'll see, then."

Suddenly, Phantom made a gurgling noise and started to retch. The scientists, although intrigued, moved back from the specimen.

"Is he… puking?"

"He _is_," Agent Foxtrot marveled.

Since he was still strapped to the table, Phantom wasn't able to aim his vomit anywhere but onto himself. It wasn't unlike human vomit besides that it was green. Oh, and glowing. It drenched his entire torso and matted into his hair, which was already greasy and gray from weeks of captivity. Phantom coughed up even more bile and _growled_. "Fuck you guys."

He'd slipped back into hero mode.

_Goddamnit._

Agent Kilo wrinkled his nose. "Should we collect a sample?"

"Sure, but _I'm_ not touching that stuff."

"What were you asshats trying to accomplish anyway? Get me to throw up so I feel as nasty as you tell I am? Might've worked," Phantom said darkly.

"Should we spray him down in the sanitation chamber? Because I don't think we're going to clean that off easily with only bleach wipes."

"Good idea, Sierra."

Phantom groaned. "Not _that _thing."

The sanitation chamber sprayed its target with as much water pressure as a firehose. Phantom had only been in it once, but he didn't speak for hours in either mode.

"Do you want to stay covered in your own sick, ghost? Because we can let that happen."

He fell silent.

"Alright, Kilo collect the sample. Agent Foxtrot help me slide him onto the stretcher and set up the chamber," Agent Sierra directed.

The scientists obliged and Phantom held his tongue, not dumb enough to risk the shallow kindness of his captors.

* * *

The ferocious torrent of the sanitation chamber didn't help the welts from the experiment. After a few hours, the welts grew into a rash and the scientists dragged Phantom into temporary hospice. Their favorite specimen had to be in good health, after all. They couldn't let his poor condition skew their data.

"Don't you guys just want me to suffer? Why are you doing this?" Phantom asked. "You're not trying to bribe into forgetting that I'm your lab rat, right? Well, I'm never going to forget _why _I'm here. That you fucking ripped me from _my _town that's probably in shambles by now. And all the people that I love... I just want my life back."

Agent X-Ray resumed rubbing ointment onto Phantom's rash. He hissed at the contact but didn't swat the scientist away.

To Phantom's left, Agent Quebec was working on his tablet, making a few revisions for their next experiment. Quebec looked up from his device and met Phantom's gaze. "Do you really think anyone noticed that you've even left?" he asked innocently.

The ghost's eyes widened. "What?"

"Just a question," Agent Quebec shrugged. "Do you think anyone has noticed?"

"Of—of course. I'm their _hero_."

"I guess you are. Since you've disappeared, nobody in your _precious_ town has been attacked. You're protecting them by not being there. If that's what you call a hero, _ghost_."

"I don't understand," he whispered.

"I guess a creature like you wouldn't understand the matters of human affairs. Typical."

"No, I—nobody's been attacked? Are you sure?" His voice was longing, _desperate_. "I'm supposed to _protect _them."

Agent Quebec kept his glare cold and stern. "They don't need you. It appears they never did."

Everything was still for a moment. Agent X-Ray stopped smearing ointment onto Phantom's rash and Agent Quebec froze in anticipation. They couldn't place it, but something in Phantom's eyes _died_.

In a matter of seconds, stars splashed across Phantom's face. His freckles pulsated constellations and his eyes sparkled with space dust. His hero mode had been too weak to sustain dominance, so his space mode had taken over.

Agent X-Ray dropped the tube of ointment.

"What just—"

"His space mode. His hero obsession was too weak, so it automatically took over. This is—" Agent Quebec ran a hand over his face "—this changes _everything_. Our theories were actually right!"

"What theories?" Phantom tilted his head. "I like theories. My favorite theory is the theory that when matter in a black hole—which is really _really _dense—bounces back against the center of the black hole it'll create a baby universe. Like, imagine a tiny universe _inside_ a black hole! Isn't that interesting? Some people even think we might be inside a black hole, but nobody can prove anything..."

"You have to tell the higher-ups about this," Agent X-Ray said. "If we can really eliminate his obsession, then—"

"_I know._"

"Phantom will be reduced to a cute, little, babbling space ghost."

Agent Quebec raised a brow. "Cute?"

"Come on man, those freckles are _adorable_."

"Whatever you say."

He turned back to his tablet and left Agent X-Ray to finish things with Phantom.

* * *

"I've heard our little star is all healed up," Agent Foxtrot greeted playfully.

Phantom's eyes darted around the room. He was strapped to the table again, so he didn't have a good visage of Agent Foxtrot or the other scientists. He was also still in space mode and hadn't switched back since his time in hospice—some wounds took longer to heal.

"Yeah," Phantom chirped. "They managed to get the rash thing to go away."

"Good. Because we need you to do something _very_ important today."

"Yeah?"

"We're taking samples of your tissue from different parts of your body, so you need to stay very still. Some of these incisions have to be _precise_. Got it?"

His eyes dulled. "_Yeah_."

"Good."

The scientists prepared their tools, laying out everything on the metal tray inches from Phantom's head. His eyes darted to the tray every time they placed another device on it, but he didn't comment.

It was strange… his space mode was typically naive, but today he appeared _lucid_. He was assertive and brooding… like he was anticipating the pain that awaited him. This was how his hero mode behaved, but he wasn't in his hero mode. Perhaps the trauma he'd experienced in his hero mode yesterday was preventing him from fully shifting? As a result, he was stuck in space mode with hero mode's mentality.

At least that's the conclusion that the scientists reached.

"We're ready to make the first incision," Agent Foxtrot announced.

Phantom stared straight up, locking his gaze onto the surgical light.

Agent Kilo drew the scalpel along the lines that Agent Sierra had marked along Phantom's pectorals. The blade pulled the ghost's flesh and Phantom bit his tongue to keep from crying out. Dark green oozed from the cut, spilling across his chest in rivets.

"Peculiar," Agent Kilo remarked. "Ectoplasm typically isn't this… runny. Or dark."

Agent Sierra dug the scalpel deeper into the slice, trying to get a good piece of tissue of the sample. Phantom elicited a muffled scream and Agent Foxtrot shoved a nearby rag in his mouth. Finally, Agent Sierra managed to get a good chunk out of Phantom's pecs and used the scalpel to loosen it. Agent Kilo collected the sample and carefully secured it in a sterile cooler.

Phantom heaved, sweat slicked against his skin. His face was a mess of bodily fluids… glowing saliva, snot, and tears smeared against his face. For a moment, the scientists didn't even notice that the stars had slipped off his face and he'd reverted back into hero mode. He tried to speak, but the gag in his mouth only choked him. The scientists figured that was probably a good thing; they didn't need _another _earful from him.

Agent Foxtrot grabbed another rag and wiped off the remaining ectoplasm on his chest.

"This _is _really runny," she noted.

Agent Sierra furrowed his brow. "Do you think he hasn't been fed enough? The viscosity of ectoplasm thins when a ghost is malnourished."

"No. He drinks ectoplasm on the daily. I think this is just… _him_. Something's weird with his composition."

"Hopefully these tissue samples will illuminate why."

"If they don't, then we can always run more tests. Do you think the higher-ups will sign off on a dissection?"

"_Oh_! I've always wanted to do one of those."

Phantom slammed his foot against the table.

"Knowing our luck, they'll give it to Agent Bravo's team."

"God… that bitch always takes everything. Always stealing _our_ glory," Agent Kilo grumbled.

"Hey, we just have to push through. Sooner or later, we'll reach some conclusive results! We're lucky enough that we get to examine the most complex specimen in this institution."

"Yeah… I guess. So should we start on the next sample?"

Though the gag, Phantom made a high-pitched whining noise. The scientists exchanged glances and began setting up for the next test.

* * *

"Why… am I here?" Phantom asked. He was sitting across from Agent Bravo in some kind of interrogation room. It was one of those rooms they have on police shows, with the double-sided glass. He was thoroughly strapped to his chair and fixed with an additional electrocution collar. They hadn't had to use one of those on him in a while, but it was just for extra precaution.

"We need to have a chat. Well, more than one chat—starting today, you and I are going to have bi-weekly sessions."

"Sessions?" he asked incredulously.

"Agent Quebec has recommended them. He has some ideas about how we can… expand your comfort."

Phantom scoffed. "Are you fucking serious?"

"Quite."

"But I'm your lab rat—you guys don't give a damn about my feelings."

"You're our lab rat, yes. But it's important to us that between your… _tests… _that you're in prime condition."

"Oh _sure_."

"Your welfare affects our data, so this isn't something we take lightly."

"Fuck your data then. I never asked to be here. If it means screwing you out of the satisfaction, I'm perfectly content with being miserable!"

"Well, that's just petty, isn't it? Didn't expect anything less… you only care about yourself. Well, and your precious _town_ that hasn't even noticed you've left."

"Stop saying that… that's a _lie_. They've _had _to notice I've been captured," he growled. "I know there are people that care about me… I know."

Agent Bravo's smile curled. "Know… or believe? Everyone's living their lives as normal—no thanks to you."

"No, they aren't! They—they can't be! I'm the only thing keeping Amity from being destroyed! And then there's Mo—" he shook his head. "What about the Fentons? They've had to have figured it out. Right?"

She shrugged. "At most, the Fentons are fending off small-fry ghosts that stayed behind when all _your_ enemies left. Other than that, they've been occupied with other things. I doubt they've batted an eye in your direction."

His eyes welled with tears. "But Jazz _promised_ she'd…"

"Who?"

"_No one_." He wiped at the tears rolling down his cheeks.

"That's what I thought," she said. "No one's realized you're gone. If they haven't even noticed, what does that say about you? How important were you _really_ to Amity Park? You're better off here, where you're actually useful."

"But I was useful," he cried. "I worked so hard… and I had to have made a difference. Didn't I?"

"How many times are you going to make me say it? You didn't make a damn difference. All you did was make the ghost problem worse by drawing your enemies into the town! Now that you're gone, the only ghosts left are the weak ones. Let me get it through your thick—or shall I say _thin_, _ectoplasmic _skull! You're the catalyst for all the disaster that ravaged Amity Park and now that you're gone everyone is safe!"

At her words, Phantom stilled. His sobs started to dwindle and he locked eyes with the double-sided glass as if he could see the other side. Agent Bravo turned to see what he was looking at and almost missed his shift into space mode. Glittery freckles and star-speckled eyes emerged in the wake of Phantom's tears.

Agent Bravo howled in delight. "_Bingo_."

* * *

Phantom continued to meet with Agent Bravo over the next few weeks. Every time he'd go into the session, the scientists would ensure that he was in hero mode. She'd talk him down until finally, he reverted into his space mode. If he caught on, he didn't say anything to his captors or Agent Bravo.

"He almost looks like he's in mourning. Does that mean that this... 'anti-therapy' is working?" Agent Kilo approached Agent Quebec at lunch.

"Is that really the best thing you thought to call it?"

"What am I supposed to call it?" He crossed his arms.

"Not _that_."

"Ugh. Whatever. It's working, right?"

"Seems like it. He's hardly spending any time in his hero mode unless we prompt him to change. If we keep this up, it looks like he'll lose it for good!"

Agent Kilo frowned. "Are we sure that's the best choice? I get that nobody likes his hero mode, but shouldn't we study his dual-obsessions more before we destroy one?"

"If we study them now, that could jeopardize all of Agent Bravo's progress. At this point, we can't turn back. We can just study the next ghost with dual-obsessions. Sure, Phantom's rare but I doubt he's one of a kind."

"Let's hope not. That'd really suck."

"Indeed."

"Well, good talking to you Quebec. I'll see you tomorrow?"

Agent Quebec groaned. "Only if I'm unlucky."

"Then it's no question," Agent Kilo laughed. "_Buddy_."

He ducked out of Agent Quebec's office, leaving him alone with his work.

* * *

"I want you to say it with me this time," Agent Bravo instructed. "_Amity Park is happy and safe without me._"

Phantom kept his head down on the table, arms curled around himself. Usually, he took much longer to break, which was a good sign. They were near the end; his hero obsession was finally giving out.

"A—Amity Park's safe without me," he mumbled.

"_They're not my town. My heroic efforts are futile."_

Phantom clenched his fists and released them.

"It's not my town. My efforts are futile."

Agent Bravo's smile ripped across her face like a branch of lightning.

"_The ghosts attacks were all my fault."_

"The attacks were all _my _fault."

"Good. _Very_ good."

When Phantom finally lifted his head, he was in space mode. When he spoke, his voice was steady and soft.

"May I go to my cell now? I like the darkness."

She nodded. "Agent Whiskey will escort you out."

Right on cue, a tall, bullish man entered the interrogation room. He slammed his briefcase on the table between Phantom and Agent Bravo and clicked it open. He removed the inhibitors from the case and started fixing them on Phantom's limbs. They were a mandatory precaution each time they moved Phantom around the facility—they couldn't risk losing him in the hallways, the veins of the Guys in White.

"On your feet," Agent Whiskey growled.

Phantom obliged, familiar with the weight of inhibitors dragging him down. Agent Whiskey pulled him by the arm and he parroted the man's gait, step-for-step. Luckily, the interrogation room wasn't too far from Phantom's cell so they didn't have to walk much. Agent Whiskey shoved Phantom into his cell, unclasped his inhibitors, and slammed the deadlock on the door. The ghost was left alone in the dark… with nothing but a creaky, metal bed.

"Finally," he sighed.

He brought himself to his knees and crawled underneath his bed. He flattened himself out so that no part of his body was sticking out and let go of his transformation. In a flash of light, Phantom changed into Danny Fenton. He was worse for wear; bruised, battered, and broken in a million ways, but he was still alive. It was inevitable that the GIW would discover his duality, but he'd managed to hide it so far.

He'd learned early on that the cameras in his room couldn't see anything in the dark. They weren't night-vision cameras because his cell was _supposed_ to have light in it, but they kept it turned off for him. However, the cameras could still pick up on the light from his transformation, so he had to hide underneath the bed so that they wouldn't catch it.

It wasn't too difficult, at least. He only had to transform back into human form once every few days. By those standards, his body was low-maintenance. He didn't have to eat human food since the GIW was generous enough to give him ectoplasm. And since he wasn't drinking water, he didn't have to use the bathroom. It wasn't ideal, but it worked.

Danny closed his eyes, basking in the darkness.

"Can't I just… fly into space? Where the darkness never ends?" he whispered. "Dotted by millions of galaxies, light-years away? Can't I just be where I want to be instead of here? Where they tear me apart, push me around. Instead of… back home with those _ungrateful_ people. Who forgot about me, who _never _needed me."

He unfolded his arm to wipe the tears rolling down his starry cheeks.

"Can't I live among the stars, _just me_?"

The darkness didn't respond.

* * *

"A toast!" Agent Quebec announced. "To Agent Bravo, Dr. Laishram, for successfully eradicating Specimen 403's heroic driven obsession! She's a visionary in her field of study and bound to make many more accomplishments in the future!"

The scientists raised their glasses and drank.

It'd been two weeks since Agent Bravo's final session with Phantom and he hadn't shifted into his hero mode once, despite harsh prompting. After a week, they'd determined that she'd done it; that she'd broken down his obsession once and for all. It was definitely a matter of celebration, so they threw an office party in the facility's lobby.

"I don't deserve _all_ the credit," Agent Bravo dismissed. "If it wasn't for Agent Quebec, I would've never had the opportunity! I owe this feat to my co-workers who helped me prepare for this role. Sometimes… it was hard to keep a straight face, knowing what we know about Amity now. Nonetheless, Phantom ate straight out of my hand."

"He's not the only one," Agent Kilo muttered under his breath.

Agent Foxtrot swiftly elbowed him in the ribs. "Mind your manners."

"You're an incredible deceiver, Bravo. You impress me sometimes!" Agent X-Ray remarked.

"I'm not sure that's an admirable quality, but thanks?"

Laughter rang around the room. It didn't last long; red lights cast across the lobby and a high, whirring siren punctured the scientists' merriment. The co-workers glanced at each other in alarm.

"Is that the fire alarm?" Agent Sierra asked.

Agent Quebec shook his head. "No… something's escaped."

His words sent the room into a flurry of panic.

"Who the hell's on security tonight!?"

"Agents Whiskey and Tango!"

Heads turned toward Agent Whiskey, weakly holding a glass of champagne.

"_Fuck_!"

"I—I thought he had it covered?"

"Jesus, Jacquez. It's Agent Tango for Christ's sake!"

"I'm sorry!"

Agent Foxtrot fumbled through her bag and found a portable ecto-blaster. Other scientists were arming themselves with weapons, but nothing like the field-agents carried. They were ill-prepared to make a stand… their only hope was—

"The ghost shields! Are they all operational?"

"They should be? _Oh, God._"

"Do we know who escaped yet?"

Agent Quebec waved his tablet. "I'm trying to find out, but half of our surveillance systems are down! Whoever escaped must be sentient enough to knock them out!"

"We only have three specimens that fit that profile… could it be—?"

Several scientists gasped.

"No, no it can't be him! He's lost his will to break out, hasn't he?"

"Losing his heroics doesn't make Phantom any less dangerous, Delta!"

"_Dammit._"

"This is all your fault Whiskey! If you'd just stayed at your post—"

"I got video feed!" Agent Quebec announced. "Help me look for the escapee!'

He casted his tablet to the lobby's TV and took a step back. There were at least thirty different cameras squeezed into tiny boxes, but it wasn't hard to pick out where the escapee was. It was only a shadow, but his silhouette spoke enough.

"Phantom's in Sector 4-F!"

"There's a ghost shield on the other side of that wall, he's cornered. Apprehend him before he changes trajectory!"

"Yes, Agent Quebec!" the scientists chorused.

"Wait…" Agent Quebec zoomed in on the screen. "What the _hell_?"

"... Quebec?" Agent Bravo asked. "What is it?"

"He went through th—the wall! He went _through_ the ghost shield! Did you guys see that?"

"Quebec, there's no way."

Agent Quebec swiped upwards on his tablet and switched to exterior security cameras. And sure enough, there was a telltale black streak staggering across the screen. It stretched into the distance, far away from the facility and into the woods.

"Phantom's escaped. He's really… _gone_."

* * *

He'd seen his chance and taken it. Danny had never dreamed he'd be this lucky, but he supposed karma owed him a lot of debt. There was only one guard on duty tonight, and even with his limited powers, it didn't take much to overpower him when he slipped Danny's ectoplasm tube into his cell. From there, he had cut the surveillance for the south side of the facility and used his human side to phase through the ghost shield.

He may have been caught on camera transforming, but he didn't care. He was _out_. And it's not like he was returning to his human life anyway, not after all they'd done for him. Or lack thereof. Nobody cared that he'd been captured, not even his family. And Amity Park was happy! They were fine without him! Agent Bravo made that clear, and he was glad she had. Now he could pursue his destiny. _The stars._

He could explore the vastness of space without being chained to any responsibilities! He could escape his pain and misery, he could leave all his trauma back on Earth where it belonged. Space was his salvation, it could heal him. He just wanted to be one with it.

He wanted to breathe comets and dance with asteroids. He wanted to pour with Venus's acid rain and fly through the rings of Saturn. He wanted to let the absence of gravity whisk him into infinite darkness and pour into his _soul_.

Physical and spiritual freedom. He could finally be _himself_.

Why had he ever been infatuated with the idea of heroism? That had never been him. Daniel Fenton had always wanted to be an astronaut and somewhere along the way he'd picked up the stupid idea that he was obligated to fight for others. He felt much better this way; he felt like Danny again. Not _Phantom_.

"I'm ready," he breathed. And with that, he kicked off from the ground and shot into orbit.

He kept his gaze on the stars, glittering like precious jewels. They were so magnificent! He'd live among them, touch them, and dissolve into stardust…

* * *

Jazz crossed the house with a worn resolve. Things were bad. They'd been bad for months, ever since Danny vanished. No one noticed at first, it even took their parents a few days to realize that Fenton was missing. After that, tragedy after tragedy befell their town. With no protector, Amity Park was easy pickings for the ghosts. And thus, the invasions started.

Outside, she could hear them pillaging the streets. Her parents were on the other side of town, taking care of the ghosts tearing apart townhall. She didn't know why they tried anymore; it was already a dump. They should reinforce the other areas of town that hadn't been reduced to ruin yet, like their neighborhood. But Jazz was tired. She didn't want to do anything anymore, she couldn't fight. So, she let them be. Fuck it! Let the ghosts wreak all the havoc they want!

They needed Danny, they needed their hero. But no one knew where he'd gone. She'd spent days searching for him in the Ghost Zone, but she was at a loss. None of his allies _or_ enemies knew of his whereabouts.

Sam and Tucker thought he was dead, but Jazz refused to believe that. She knew that he was out there somewhere, fretting about them, and she knew that he'd come back and fix everything. That's what heroes did, after all.

She ascended the stairs and carefully dipped into Danny's bedroom. Mom and Dad had torn it to shreds when he first disappeared, but now everything was eerily untouched. Layers of dust coated Danny's shelves and model space shuttles. She didn't know exactly how she felt, but it was vaguely comforting. To know that this stuff was still here, waiting… just like her.

Ignoring the carnage outside his window, Jazz drew the blinds switched off the light. She found Danny's star projector on one of his shelves and placed it on the floor. She fiddled with the controls for a moment and managed to get constellations revolving around the ceiling. She laid down on the musty carpet and crossed her arms over her chest.

Danny used to do this. He found it relaxing. Maybe she would too.

As the star projector spun, it hummed a soft melody that haunted Jazz well into the night.

* * *

_"_ _Twinkle, twinkle, little star,_

_How I wonder what you are."_

**Author's Note:**

> I'm also on [Tumblr](https://wastefulreverie.tumblr.com/)!


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